


Monsters

by Miss_Lv



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Animal Abuse, Blood and Gore, Bottom Castiel, Child Abuse, Dark, Dean and Castiel Hunt and Kill Terrible People, Death Threats, Demon Dean Winchester, Domestic Violence, Drugging, Forced Prostitution, Graphic Torture, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Pedophilia, Piercings, Poverty, Serial Killer Castiel, Serial Killers, Tattoos, Top Dean, Torture, Violence, Virgin Castiel, mentions of past rape, near rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-16 13:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9274361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Lv/pseuds/Miss_Lv
Summary: Castiel prayed to God, to help them, to save them.God never answered.But Dean did.It was the monster who saved Castiel, not God.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CosenAngel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosenAngel/gifts).



> So this is dark, like one of the darkest things I wrote. 
> 
> The warning are there for a very real reason, if you want the details check the notes at the end of the second chapter to make sure nothing triggers you. 
> 
> This was written for the Destiel secret santa who asked for a true demon Dean and likes dark fics.

Castiel is ten the first time he meets Dean.

The room is dark and dank. The heat was turned off so the room was cold. To fight that he wears all four shirts and the two sweaters he owns along with his thin worn out blanket. The mattress is on the floor and it stinks, he hates the smell but the floor is worse. There is a worn scent to the poverty stricken apartment complex. It’s a mix of trash, urine, and booze. Castiel hates the smell.

He hates it so much that he hides under the open window. He would rather be so cold that his fingers and toes are numb than sit in that stink.

Curled up on himself he covers his ear, pressing is hands so hard they hurt, his head hurts. Even then he can hear his mother sobbing, soft tiny sounds that are broken by the sound of the man hitting her over and over.

Come morning she’ll be covered in bruises, split lip and dried blood.

If she makes it to morning.

The man always mutters that she might not. That he might just kill her and be done with it. Castiel lives in terror that he might, that when he wakes his mother won’t be at the tiny table with the broken leg and taped up chairs. He has nightmares about having to walk to her room, finding her sprawled out, too still with her head hanging at an angle that screams she’s dead.

A woman died four doors down, she was there for a day before the police came, the door kicked open and the dead body in plain view. He had to walk by it three times and it haunted him. Even now years later it haunts him.

It's not the woman in his nightmares though. It’s his mom. She’s laid out dead.

He clenches his hands until they hurt.

He begs God with everything in him, asking over and over for him to stop it, to help his mom, tears of frustration well in his clenched eyes and his teeth hurt from how hard he clenches them.

 _Please God_ , he thinks desperately. _Please help us, help my mom, please, please,_ he repeats it over and over, wishing the people at the church were right. That there is someone who will help, that God is real.

His mom sobs, a bottle shatters and she muffles a scream.

 _Please God, please_ , Castiel thinks fervently.

God has never helped them but maybe if Castiel just prayed harder, maybe if he just tried more.

A rush of cold air makes him start, twisting to look up as a grown man leans into the room from the window.

Castiel’s first thought is that he’s terrifying.

His eyes are black and there is blood on his face and shirt. Not his own, Castiel has seen blood stains all his life. The blood is splattered from this man hurting someone else.

“Hey kid,” the monster grins, coming into the room and sitting beside him before Castiel can get away.

A siren screams in the distance and the man cocks his head, listening before he closes the window.

“Gonna sit with you for a bit, gotta wait out the cops,” he explains with a smirk and a wink and Castiel is too scared to move. The man’s eyes are black, there is nothing in them. He’s a monster, a monster come to kill them all.

His mom sobs and the wall shakes with how hard she’s thrown into it. The man screams as he hits her.

The monster frowns, watching the door curiously.

“Who’s that? You’re parents?”

“My mom,” Castiel corrects before he can stop himself. The man is not his father. Not him or any of the men before him. His father was a good man, a great one. His mom used to tell him stories about him, that his father died protecting the innocent, that he was a hero.

All the men that came after were just empty faces. Castiel stopped remembering their names, stopped thinking of them as anything but men who would come and eventually go. He wished the current one would go. Some of them had hit his mom before but this one is different, more vicious and terrible. He might kill Castiel’s mom.

“Who’s the guy?” the monster asks.

Castiel is too scared to answer, staring at the man’s empty eyes.

“Want me to kill him?”

Something knee jerks inside Castiel, he nods before he can think better. He regrets it once he does; killing is wrong, the church said so, but his mom is sobbing so hard.

The monster winks and pushes off the wall, standing and leaving the room.

There is yelling, angry and violent as Castiel hides in his blanket.

His mom’s stumbling steps make him look up and she curls around him, holding on tight.

In the morning the monster and the man who hurt his mom are both gone.

Neither of them return.

 

Castiel is thirteen and angry when he meets Dean again.

He’s panting for breath as he runs alongside Mike and Luke, both of them ahead of him. The police are chasing them on foot, closing in quickly.

They had trashed the police station, tossing a rock through the shiny new front window.

They were a joke, crooked cops who turned the other way while terrible things happened. Castiel’s mom met a nice man who turned into a monster. He put her on the street, made her a whore. Made her sell drugs and do terrible things to the filth that paid for her.

She went to the police for help once.

Only once.

They turned her away and when they came home her pimp was waiting. He took her to the bedroom and turned on the music. The door was locked and no matter how hard he tried, Castiel couldn’t get it open.

His mom wore long sleeves and jeans, she refused to show him what the man had done. 

But she never tried again.

Never.

Castiel hates the police. Liars and bastards.

Mike and Luke hit the fence and climb it quickly. Castiel tries to follow but he’s not their height yet, he doesn’t make it all the way up in time. A cop grabs his ankle and yanks Castiel down, he slams into the concrete, vision blurring as the cop kicks him in the stomach. It takes all his breath away and he can’t breathe as the man keeps kicking over and over until he’s certain this is how he will die.

“Seriously?” A voice scoffs and the cop stops, panting for breath as he turns to face the newcomer.

“Fuck off,” he snarls but the man doesn’t move. Castiel’s vision clears enough for him see and his fear twists. His heart pounds so hard it might escape his chest.

The monster is there, smirking and chewing on a bagel. His eyes look normal but Castiel had never forgotten that face. Not once.

He is both terrified and grateful to the monster.

A murder that saved his mom.

“Listen, you screw off now or I put a bullet in your head,” the cop threatens and Castiel knows he will. This is the sort of neighborhood where bodies show up, where you hear a gun fire and know better than to go looking.

The monster ignores the cop, peering at Castiel curiously as he eats his food.

“This really how you wanna go out?”

It’s a taunt but also a real question. Castiel’s stares at him, shaking his head in a silent no. He doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t want to die in a piss-reeking alley by a cop stomping him. The boys he called his friends never even looking back as they left him behind, knowing what would happen.

The monster raises a brow as if challenging Castiel.

The cop begins to swear, angry at being ignored, he turns to face the monster now, reaching for his gun. Castiel pushes himself from the trash layered street, blood seeping from his lips. His stomach burns with pain that feels like stabs, over and over each time he moves.

But he grits his teeth and sits up. He kicks the cop in the back of the leg, making him stumble forward.

He turns to glare at Castiel, such open hatred, such clear violence. The man will Kill Castiel, he has no issue with it, he will kill him for daring to fight.

The monster moves like smoke, suddenly there.

He grabs the man’s neck, hands digging in.

He snaps his neck in a smooth motion.

Castiel watches the cop slump to the ground.

The monster peers at him, eyes taking in Castiel, his ill-fitting clothing and his bruises, his scrawny body, and glare.

“Bagel?” He asks cheerfully, holding out the last few bites.

Castiel spits blood and sits up, ignoring the agony.

He takes the bagel and shoves it into his mouth.

The monster laughs at him, reaching down and picking him up, handling him like he was light as a feather.

Castiel is scared of the monster. But he’s faced worse, he’s faced all sorts of monsters by now.

“I like you kid, got some bite in you.”

The monster leaves the alley, the cop not looked at again.

“Coming?”

Castiel stumbles but follows.

He can’t walk right but the monster doesn’t comment. He doesn’t offer to help either, he just walks to the dinner on the corner.

The waitress looks at Castiel with pity. She lets him have free toast and water sometimes.

“Whatcha want?” The monster asks with a grin and Castiel pulls a menu to him. He orders a full meal. He’s had toast and bits of left over takeout the last three days. Castiel doesn’t have the luxury of declining pity.

“What’s your name?”

“Castiel.”

“An angel’s name,” the monster smirks like that’s somehow hilarious. “I’m Dean.”

Dean.

Such a plain boring name for a monster.

“How’s the mom?” he asks as they eat.

Castiel would lie to anyone else. Anyone but this monster.

“She’s a prostitute now, he makes her.”

Dean laughs. “God you talk so fancily, a prostitute huh? Not a hooker or a whore? I bet you do well in school.”

Castiel does poorly in school. Everything bores him and so he doesn’t pay attention and ends up pissing off teachers.

Problematic they call him. No good. From a bad area. 

They eat and Castiel keeps watching Dean carefully, looking for the black eyes again. The man doesn’t show them. He charms the waitress and orders extra pie, eating it with obvious relish.

Castiel eats everything on his plate, not leaving a crumb. His belly hurts but it feels good to be full. It’s worth the beating to have met Dean again.

He leaves a wad of bills and winks at the waitress as they leave.

“Where we off to?” he asks Castiel and he stares at the monster.

“Or you don’t want me to kill this guy turning your mom out?”

Castiel’s hands are clammy as he makes tight fists, his mind working furiously. Burt isn’t like the other men, he had friends. He has a group of them with guns. The count his money and sort his drugs.

But Dean is a monster.

Castiel leads him to the apartment building they live in.

His mom will be sleeping in their room. They share a single mattress and Castiel sits in the hall when Burt or one of his men want his mom. Three men are at the rental, Burt is there too, all watching the TV as they divide red pills into small bags to be sold.

They all sit up when Dean follows Castiel into the rental.

“Which one?”

Castiel knows he could die, that Burt isn’t like the others. He’d just put a gun to Castiel’s head and pull the trigger. He’s killed some of the women that tried to run like that, making them all watch.

He points to the man anyway, watching the anger come into his gaze.

Burt sits up and he has a gun immediately. He points it as Dean and the shot is like a jolt inside Castiel, making him jerk.

He shot Dean right in the chest.

He smirks, his eyes are black now.

“Go to your room Cas.”

Castiel goes, stumbling to get there as the men run at Dean or try to shoot him. The guns bang out like thunder that’s too close. It shakes the whole room. When he falls he crawls the rest of the way, pushing his mom back into the room when she opens the door.

She wraps her arms around him, holding on tightly as they listen to the gunfire stop and the screams begin. The men, all big rough men that sneer at getting hurt, binding gunshot wounds all the time without a sound, they cry like children.

When footsteps come down the hall, his mom moves to the corner of the room, face down and hiding. If you don’t see their face they might not hurt you.

Dean opens the door, blood smeared and amused. Castiel’s mom sobs and hides but Castiel stands, leaving her side to stand in front of Dean.

He doesn’t think he’ll hurt Castiel but then Castiel thought Burt was nice once.

Dean smirk and lifts a bloody hand to tip Castiel’s chin up.

He leans in and kisses him.

His mouth is warm and wet, he tastes like blood. He doesn’t smash his mouth like most men, he just presses his lips to Castiel’s for a moment. Like his mom would kiss him but somehow more.

Something kind. 

Castiel will spend years thinking about, touching his mouth and recalling it.

He’ll touch himself thinking about it one day.

Dean leans back up and winks again, it makes Castiel feel warm suddenly, his insides trembling. Dean hands him a backpack and he takes it unthinkingly.

“Might wanna head out,” Dean suggests and then turns and leaves. Castiel is frozen for a moment but then he moves. He pulls his mother quickly, dragging her as she sobs. He’s hurting her pulling so hard and he knows it, but they have to leave.

If the monster said they should go then they have too.

They stumbled out of the apartment his mom in too small jean shorts and an oversized shirt she liked to sleep in. Once they leave the building she collects herself and follows Castiel more easily. They walk down the street and keep walking passed the buildings he recognizes and into strange areas. His mom’s feet are bare and their bleeding after a few hours but they keep walking.

They don’t talk about the living room ever.

They don’t talk about walking passed the dead men, their bodies cut up and pulled open, insides on display. Burt was still breathing, twitching as blood poured from his mouth.

They never once talk about it.

His mom has money on her, she would use it for change when she sold drugs. Two hundred in small bills. They counted it every night and if she messed up they would hit her.

They walk until it’s night and it’s cold.

When they see a bus station they don’t even look at one another. They just know.

When they're in the station TVs are all playing the news. Their apartment was burned to the ground, over a hundred people are dead.

They buy tickets as far as they can and they leave the city behind.

When they're on the bus and his mom sleeping quietly and no one paying attention, Castiel opens up the bag the monster gave him.

A part of him expects blood and gore, he thinks Bert’s eyes might be in the bag since they were missing from his face.

The bag is full of money.

Wads and wads of hundred dollar bills.

 

Castiel doesn’t see Dean again until he’s eighteen.

They live in a small but nice apartment. His mom cleans it every day, probably too much Castiel understands.

The apartment doesn’t smell bad, it never did. They have to keep it that way, they just have too.

It has beds up on frames and blankets that are warm, clothing that fits them, it has matching dishes, and comfortable nice furniture. Some of it is used but nothing is broken, nothing is strained.

It’s perfect.

Castiel’s mom dressed moderately she calls it, jeans and long sleeves, never too low cut. “I don’t want people to get ideas about us,” she insists. So she puts Castiel in new jeans and shirts, sweaters that make him look like a nerd.

He wears them without complaint. His mom smiles so much now.

They go to church every Sunday and his mom is on the volunteer committee. Castiel has sat up late with her and old ladies making decorations for summer dances, winter carols, and hundreds of other events over the years.

The women treat his mom good. They don’t ever sneer at her. Some even know what she was before and they pat her hand and tell her she found the right path. His mom went into counseling when they first moved there. For years she did it and slowly something terrible and sad in her faded. She works at the grocery store now, a cashier. Next spring the head cashier is leaving and his mom is hoping she might replace her.

It’s simple and most people would turn their noses at such a base job but his mom has never hoped for more before. Castiel is doing everything he can to help her succeed, he wants her to feel good about herself more than anything.

His mom isn’t fanatical like some of the church ladies are, she just likes to sit in the pews and smile at the cross.

“It makes me feel at peace, like some higher being helped us find a new life,” she tells him.

Castiel doesn’t believe in it.

He thinks of Dean and knows no greater good helped them. He never told his mother about Dean though. She’s content and he won’t ruin it.

He won’t do anything to ruin his mom’s fragile happiness.

So when the pastor of the church feels him up he bites his lip and never says a word.

They have a good life.

No one hits them, no one hurts them. There is a widowed man at the church who likes his mom, they’ve been talking abut dating. Steven is nice, he’s so mild and meek and nothing in him is dangerous. Castiel broke into his house and searched it just to be sure. The worst he found was boring porn about lesbians.

So when the old pastor gropes his ass and cups his dick he just turns his head and thinks about other things.

It’s a fair trade.

Castiel attends a private school, his mom insisted. They tested him and found his intelligence above average, far above. He does math and science at university levels and it’s no longer boring.

There are universities that have offered him scholarships, he will go and become a doctor.

His mom always hoped he would be a doctor. His dad had been one. 

The pastor that molests him will not matter in a few months he tells himself.

But then Dean is there and everything changes.

 

The church is empty save for Castiel and the pastor. They are in the basement together, going over Castiel’s schooling plans. His mom was so happy when the pastor offered to help Castiel make his choices. A male influence, a positive one she had said.

The man breathes on his neck with his stale, sour, breath. He pulls at Castiel’s shirt, undoing his buttons. They have an hour and Castiel is sure the man intends to rape him.

He thinks of his mother’s smile and does nothing.

“Well, well,” a voice teases and the pastor jerks up and away.

Castiel feels everything go slow as he looks up and finds Dean there, leaning against the only door upstairs.

“What do we have here? Have you no creativity? I mean really? A pedo priest?”

Dean’s grinning at him, not at the pastor who is mumbling excuses.

Castiel shrugs.

“Will you be like you mom then? Willing for any old beast to crawl over you, to fuck and beat you?”

Castiel feels shame flood him, he thinks of his mom before this life, when the boyfriends took what they wanted and hurt her as they pleased.

“It’s different,” he snaps back and Dean looks at him like he’s a fool. “It’s different.” Castiel repeats.

“Mom, mom’s happy.” Castiel hates that he says it, that Dean makes him try and explain without even asking. Dean is his obsession. Castiel’s thought of the monster for years and years. He’s thought of the way Dean kissed him as a boy. He’s wondered if it would be the same now that he’s grown.

He realized he was gay because of Dean.

“I bet she thought that too. Castiel has a home, Castiel is safe, we can’t leave, what about poor little Castiel?”

The taunts make his eyes burn. The very thought that his mom would have ever once thought that disgusts him. That Castiel had ever wanted to stay with any of those men who hurt her.

“How her heart would break if she saw this, you, so willing to be used,” Dean’s crossed the room now, leaning over the table Castiel sits at.

His eyes are black and the smile on his face is cruel.

Castiel looks up at him, tears streaming down his own face.

The pastor interrupts them then.

 

“Begone demon!” He screams, tossing holy water at Dean and waving a cross in his face.

It should be silly and stupid but the water hits Dean and it burns him. His face twists in agony and he snarls, the human part of him is suddenly gone. He doesn’t look remotely kind or cheerful. He snarls and his face is distorted now, a true monster.

“You little child-fucking bastard,” he spits at the pastor. “That fucking hurts!”

The pastor is praying desperately, waving his cross as he backs away from Dean. Castiel sits and watches as he stalks the man down, backing him into a corner until he stumbles and falls. The pastor hides, crying as Dean looms over him.

“Cas,” Dean calls, waving a hand for him to come.

Castiel sits there for a long moment, frozen and breathless.

Dean waits and after too long Castiel stands, trembling as he goes. The door is right there, he could run.

He could run and he knows Dean will let him. He just knows it deep inside. Dean would let him run away, run back to his home with his mom, his nice apartment with his clean bed. He could hide under his covers and he would be safe. He could head off to his university and everything would be fine.

But Castiel doesn’t go to the door.

 

He’s not like the rest of these people.

Sometimes he wants to be, he wants it so bad it hurts him, it makes him clench his eyes and teeth like he had as a child.

But he knows he won’t ever be like them.

There is a lightness to people, a wide-eyed aspect of them. They talk about what a shame it was when some was murdered on the news, the whisper about how horrid it was when some man was discovered for hitting his wife.

But they don’t know.

They’ve never seen it like he has, they’ve never lived it. Never seen their mom’s eye swollen shut and her lip fat and still bleeding. Bruises on her wrists and blood running down her thighs. They’ve never walked past the dead body in the hall. Never been kicked by dirty cops until they coughed blood.

It’s not their fault, he doesn’t blame them or anything. But they don’t see the world like he does, they don’t know to look how he does. They’ve never had guns pointed at them, people telling them they’ll kill them and meaning it. Castiel wishes it didn’t make him different, he wishes he was like them. But he’s not. In some way he can’t put in words he’s not the same at all. He’s not more or less, he just is.

Dean saved him, he saved his mom and he saved Castiel.

He’s a monster.

A demon even.

But in the end, God didn’t help Castiel. Not when he begged as hard as he could, crying with how desperate he meant it, asking over and over to be saved.

God never answered him.

Dean did.

 

He goes to him and Dean smirks at him.

Castiel can’t help but like it, can’t help but feel like he’s done something right.

Dean pulls him in, he presses Castiel’s back to his chest and makes him face the pastor hiding in the corner. He feels warm and secure, real in a way so many things never feel.

“Do you think you’re the first?”

Castiel blinks at the question, looking down at the pastor.

“You’re not, you’re not even the twentieth. Not the fortieth. In fact, you’re a bit old for him. He likes them younger. Likes the tiny ones. Maybe because you're so small he made an exception. Maybe because the church knows already. They put him here as punishment, because he kept fucking the little boys. Tucked him away with a slap on the wrist.” Dean whispers softly, his hands are heavy and warm on Castiel, touching his hip and fingers skimming in his jeans, dipping low teasingly.

Castiel swallow, feeling a bit out of breath, staring at the pastor but feeling the hands on him.

“There’s a boy right now, a little one. Blond and blue-eyed, wears shoes with lights on them,” Dean describes and Castiel knows right away who he’s talking about.

Sam Williams, a young boy, eight or nine maybe. His mom is divorced and struggles to pay the bills. She has coffee with Castiel’s mom sometimes. They're nice, a nice young family.

“He tells him to be quiet, not to say a thing. He tells him if he says anything his mom will be sad, his mom will cry. Sam knows she will, he knows how much she cries alone lately, missing daddy who just up and left one day. Doing her best to pay for everything on a job she scrambled to get. Teenagers working beside her in the restaurant, working for extra money to blow while she just wants to keep the house, to keep feeding him. He knows she cries Cas.”

Rage is filling him and he feels helpless in its wake. He can’t stop thinking of his own mom, of how she used to cry and how she used to leave her boyfriends and try on her own. No one would hire her, no one would give her a chance. At the end of the month when rent was due, when the canned food was gone, the boyfriends would always show up again. Smug.

He thinks of the boy, Sam. He’d stopped being so playful lately, smiles less and Castiel had noticed it. He’d thought Sam missed his dad.

He’d thought the boy had fallen. That was why he said it hurt to sit.

Castiel gasps out, feeling everything overtaking him.

He hates the pastor, he hates this monster, this terrible disgusting thing.

Dean’s hands ground him, they keep him sure and steady as the building shakes. Shelves break and glass shatters. Everything is falling apart around them.

The pastor sobs out but Castiel has no pity for him.

Monster.

Dean’s mouth touches his neck, wet and hungry. His tongue licks Castiel’s skin and he buckles, he’s hard in his jeans and he wants Dean to hold him and never let go. He wants him to devour him.

He twists in Dean’s hold and kisses him, shoves his mouth against his. He wants to kiss him softly, lovingly but he can’t help it. He kisses him like the men who bought whores did, hungry and vicious, taking.

The church falls around them as Castiel clings to Dean and kisses him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

He wakes in his room alone.

The window is open and the evening sun is pouring it, the curtains fluttering peacefully. His mom’s playing some soft music in the main room and it’s muffled sound is comforting. Castiel is exhausted and wants to fall back asleep, he’s safe and content.

But he wakes himself up, stumbling to the bathroom.

Dean is in his mind, the pastor screaming as the building crushed him. It feels far away and fine, Castiel’s not upset or excited, he’s just… fine.

“Evening sleepy head,” his mom teases him, she’s cooking dinner.

“Let me,” Castiel is the one who makes them dinner. His mom works so he makes dinner. She waves him off though and he slumps in the chair at the table, still exhausted.

“You were supposed to go see the pastor today,” she gently scolds him.

“I fell asleep,” he admits carefully.

“I know, couldn’t wake you when I got home. Are you ok sweetie?”

Castiel blinks. “I’m fine. I just… it’s going to be weird going to university, I… I don’t want to leave you,” he confesses.

His mom smiles softly leaving the stove to come drop a kiss on his brow.

“Of all the reasons you’d have to go, this is the best. We’ll have the holidays anyway. I’m so proud of you,” she tells him and Castiel hugs her, pressing his face into her stomach and feeling the love he has for her threaten to make him cry.

During dinner they get the call.

The church collapsed and the pastor was killed. His mom cries softly as he rubs her back. They run it on the news. The pastor was trapped for hours, dying slowly the newscaster says, seeming to almost relish in the pain as they say it over and over.

A week later while going through the wreckage of the church someone finds a shoe box of photos. Of little boys naked. Of Sam Williams.

Sam's mom screams when they tell her. She’s at their house visiting while Sam and some other kids go see a movie. Castiel and his mom watch her slam her fists into their table. She smashes their water jug and hits the table until it cracks, screaming until her voice is hoarse and her hands are bleeding. Then she sobs, breaks into pieces. She sinks to the floor and great heaving sobs wrack her body.

Castiel’s mom hugs her then, pulls her close and rocks her as she cries, tears and spit running down her red face. The pain so utterly devastatingly clear.

“I’m glad he’s dead, I’m glad he suffered, I hope it was terrible, I hope he screamed,” she chokes. Castiel thinks of the pastor's face, twisted in horror and agony.

His mom holds her without a word, letting the woman bleed her pain out.

Sam goes to a doctor immediately, his mom puts him in counseling as well. The community swarms her with support, they raise thousands of dollars for them both. Older kids walk everywhere with Sam now, others play with him and never say a word about what has happened. His mom has endless support and her job also gives her weeks of paid leave so she can be with her son.

It’s nice to see that some people care.

 

“He had a picture of you,” his mom says one night. Castiel is doing his homework at the table while she sits across from him reading a magazine.

“Ryan came by and said… that he had a picture of you in the box, nothing like… the others. But a picture of you from some event we went too.”

Castiel has starved in his life. Because of that he never grew tall or broad. He looks small, he looks like prey. It’s likely why the pastor went after him. Castiel wonders if he could sense something off in Castiel. If the things he’s seen and experienced have marked in some way others can see.

“He never had the chance, not really,” Castiel replies without looking up. His mom gets up and walks over to him, making him lift his face and look at her.

“It wouldn’t have mattered if he did,” he adds, trying to play it off casually.

“Castiel,” his mom hisses, her voice suddenly filled with a great deep censure. “Of course it would have mattered,” she cries at him, her eyes watering. “It would have mattered,” she repeats and hugs him hard enough to hurt.

“You will always matter,” she tells him and Castiel nods awkwardly, not knowing how to help as she clutches him and cries. He thinks on Dean’s words and resolves to not accept anyone who treats him poorly again, if only for his mom.

He'll kill them first.

For her.

 

Castiel moves to attend the University of Harvard for medicine. The dorms are spacious and the entire school reeks of wealth in a way that leaves him uncomfortable.

Castiel’s scholarship pays his tuition and he has money that was saved from when Dean gave them the backpack. His mother had insisted upon it. Castiel reminds himself of that as he attends the university and he finds he does not like it much. There are too many students there simply because they have the wealth. Too many who are not focused on succeeding because they know it will be handed to them.

It irks him and he struggles to ignore it.

Instead, he concentrates on his schoolwork and reminds himself the importance of a good education.

With so many other people in his age group, Castiel finds both women and men asking him out on dates. It surprises him, no one had ever taken interest in him like that before. people his age usually avoided him, marked him as weird. He turns them all down either way.

When he masturbates he thinks only of Dean.

Of a demon. He remembers the way the holy water burned him, his monster was a demon.

Castiel still thinks of him often, he thinks of Dean’s kiss and the way it felt to kiss him. He thinks of Dean’s hands, capable of terrible things, touching him. His fingers dipping under the waistband of Castiel’s jeans.

He comes with a muffled sound, barely understanding but utterly fixated.

 

Meg is a kind girl who is also attending on a scholarship. She sits beside Castiel in class and frowns with him at the wealthy idiots who come late and hung over. They talk about stretching money to last and buying second-hand books.

Castiel likes her, he misses his mom and it’s nice to have someone to talk too.

When she asks him to come to a party, only has friends, he agrees.

Castiel does not drink.

He’s seen the effect of alcohol far too many times, the reek of booze in the shitty apartments they lived in. Drunks passed out on the street and in the parks. He has no interest in losing control or relaxing or whatever foolish thing people claim it will grant. He feels the same about drugs as well.

Meg does not push when he simply tells her he doesn’t want to drink. She nods her head and finds him a pop to sip. The house party is loud and people are too drunk, it’s too much like some of the drug houses he’s since as a child. He hates the heavy scent of alcohol and it makes him nauseous.

Meg leads him upstairs to a quiet room and lays him out his back to rest. The room is dark with a street light outside shining in the window, casting a soft light in the shadows.

“I’m going to head home shortly,” he tells her and she smiles easily at him, reaching out to cup his cheek. She has never overstepped before and he frowns at her for the sudden touch.

“Baby, we’re gonna have all the fun. And you know what,” she sits on the bed beside him and leans in close. Castiel’s nausea remains, his head feels strange as well and he knows enough to realize that he has been drugged.

“Dean’s gonna be so mad,” Meg whispers and her eyes are black.

Castiel tries to jerk away but his body doesn’t listen, refuses to obey him. Meg gets up and straddles him, sitting on his stomach as she pins him on his back.

The door knocks and her eyes go normal again.

Three men enter the bedroom, they're all students from rich families and have classes with Castiel. They show up hung over often and are arrogant and spoiled in their wealth. Castiel does not doubt they will go on to succeed, that money will buy them all they want.

“He out?”

“Pretty much, dosed enough not to fight back,” Meg grins and they laugh. They know she had drugged him then. They are going to rape him.

“Poor bitches are the best ones, know to keep their mouths shut,” one of them teases and Castiel stares at Meg. Her eyes are normal but they were black. She’s a demon like Dean is. She mentioned him, said Dean would be mad.

Despite what is going to happen, Castiel feels a bit pleased by the idea that Dean would care.

He wants Dean to care.

Meg gets off him and the boys come forward, groping themselves as they begin to strip him.

“Gonna enjoy this, gonna make you bleed for weeks,” one of them promises. Castiel is already moving away, placing space between his mind and what is happening.

But he watches Meg, she stands off to the side smirking and Castiel sees the shadows behind her move. He sees the silhouette he instantly recognizes.

Dean comes up behind her and grabs Meg, her body jerks and Castiel knows shes been stabbed from behind. Her eyes turn black and red burns in her mouth. Dean covers it before she makes a sound, perfectly silent as he kills the other demon.

“Ready to get fucked,” one of the men asks and Castiel can feel the drug wearing off suddenly. His limbs respond to him and when the man leans over to leer at him Castiel jerks up and bites his face, teeth digging as he rips part of his cheek off.

The man screams.

The noisy party downstairs covers it.

The other two men panic, viciously angry as they attack him while their friend clutches his bloody face and swears he’s going to kill him.

Castiel might have let them win once.

But he promised his mom.

And Dean is watching.

Castiel fights.

They’re strong but he’s fought for his life multiple times growing up, cornered and beaten, fighting to live.

He gouges one in the eye and the other he slams back, he hits the dressed in the room hard and is winded. Castiel grabs his head and slams it to the solid wood.

Once.

Twice.

The third time his skull cracks, blood seeping.

The other two men are yelling out for help, fear bleeding in their eyes.

Dean is smiling like Castiel is entertaining him, like he’s impressing him. Castiel’s heart pounds and he looks at the dead man. He doesn’t feel any sort of remorse. These men are rapists, their wealth will protect them if they leave the room.

Castiel thinks of all the filth he’s seen in his life, the disgusting people who prey on the less fortunate, on those who are meek or too gentle.

They are monsters.

Castiel can’t stand them.

Dean settles on the bed, watching as Castiel straightens his shoulders and walks to the other men.

With only his hands to work with he beats one face in, punching over and over until the bone breaks and the blood splatters.

The third is crying, whimpering like a child. A moment ago he said he would make Castiel bleed.

“Did they cry like you are? The ones before me?” He questions angrily. He straddles the man’s chest and wraps his hands around his neck. He fights Castiel and he’s large, a flailing hand catches Castiel in the face and his nose bleeds.

Warm hands touch his back and Dean slides behind him, Castiel's back to his chest, just like with the pastor.

Dean’s hands entwine with his own and together they choke the man to death, watching the light in his eyes fade. Dean licks his neck, pressing wet sucking kisses to his skin and Castiel groans. He drops his head against Dean’s solid shoulder and sighs.

He watches Dean’s hands leave the body and touch Castiel’s bare stomach, teasingly tracing up and down. Castiel realizes he’s in his underwear then, stripped down by the would-be-rapists.

Dean touches him all over, gently dragging his nails over Castiel’s trembling thighs. He mouths at Castiel’s shoulder and runs his hands up his body, a thumb flicking his right nipple.

“Wanna fuck you Cas, can I fuck you?”

Castiel nods his head hurriedly, daze and feeling as if he were in a dream. “Or course,” he confesses, like it’s obvious Castiel will grant Dean anything.

The man smirks against his neck and lifts Castiel up, Dean stands and just picks him up, like Castiel's weight is nothing.

He swings him into a bridal carry and Castiel feels so stupidly affectionate as Dean carries him to the bed. He lays him down and presses a kiss to his mouth, one hand cupping his face carefully.

It’s nothing like Castiel expected from a demon.

He’s masturbated to Dean being rough, to Dean snarling and taking.

The demon is kissing him so softly, like Castiel is precious and he wants to cry, it chokes him how much he wants to sob.

He clings to Dean as the demon kisses his way down Castiel’s body, licking at a flat nipple and teasingly biting at his stomach. When he gets to Castiel’s erection, he mouths at it through Castiel’s underwear. His warm spit soaking the material and Castiel can feel his tongue through it.

“Dean,” he whines, dangerously close to coming. He’s only known his own hand, he’s never let anyone touch him.

When Dean pulls his underwear down and licks up the length of his cock, Castiel jerks and comes with a sob.

Humiliation floods him as Dean chuckles and then nips at his stomach, wet tongue licking. Cleaning the semen off him he realizes.

“Sorry,” he mutters, ready to apologize but then Dean fixes him with a dark look. Castiel realizes how stupid it to apologize for coming, for Dean feeling so good that he came. He slumps back to the bed with a shiver.

Dean takes his underwear off and presses kissed to the inside of his thighs, spreading them wide as he kisses lower and lower. Castiel sucks a breath when dean tongues his cock again. It’s trying to stay hard, aching for more. Then Dean’s mouth is on his balls, licking and moving lower and Castiel’s trembling so hard, eyes closed and focused on the feeling. Dean’s tongue feels wet and warm on his asshole. He licks at and his tongue feels pointed as it presses and wiggles at his rim.

Castiel knows how anal sex works. He’s researched it before and he understands the technicalities. Through the years he’s experimented before as well. He fingers himself regularly, hitting his prostate until he comes.

But having someone else’s hands on him can’t even be compared, Castiel feels like he might come at every little touch. More so that it’s Dean of all people, it’s Dean.

Castiel arches up, legs spread as wide as he can.

Dean chuckles and he can feel his breath on his skin.

“You like it?”

Castiel nods his head helplessly.

“You like getting eaten out?” Dean teases as he sits up. He reaches for the table and Castiel realizes there is a bottle of sexual lubricant and condoms there. He hadn’t even seen them when they came in.

Dean opens the bottle and pours it one handed. He tosses it on the bed and his fingers reach between Castiel’s legs.

He chews his lower lip, eyes falling closed again when he feels the cold touch on his hole. Dean’s fingers are insistent but oh so careful. He eases a single on in and rubs along Castiel’s insides, pressing to the knuckle and hitting his prostate.

“Like that?” Dean questions smugly and Castiel nods, opening his eyes a bit to look up the demon looming over him. His heart thuds at Dean’s black eyes.

“Been waiting a long time baby, waiting for that pretty little angel to grow up.”

Castiel’s chest burns, he feels too emotional, like he might cry as Dean smiles at him. No one makes him feel like Dean can, not even his mom.

“You could have, I would have let you,” he manages to reply and Dean laughs. He adds a second finger, stretching Castiel out bit by bit.

“Of course I could have but I wanted to wait, wanted you old enough to say you wanted it, old enough to know there was a choice. You want it, angel?”

Castiel nodded his head immediately.

“Say it,” Dean commanded as he twists his fingers, hitting Castiel’s prostate with practiced ease. Working him up until his toes curl and his breath comes in fast huffs.

“Want it, want it so bad,” he admitted freely.

“How bad?”

“Always thought of you, only you. Never touched anyone else, never let anyone touch me, not really.”

“I know,” Dean leered. “That’s why the priest had to die, fucker was going to take what was mine, dared to touch you.”

Dean added a third finger, opening Castiel up so wide.

“Sorry, ‘m sorry. Shouldn’t have let him,” Castiel babbled.

“That’s right, who is this for Cas?”

“You,” he breathed and Dean smirked, fingers pulling out as he unzipped his jeans. Castiel stared, locked on the demon as Dean pulled his own heavy cock out and slicked it up with the bottle of KY. It gleamed in the low light and Dean leaned over Castiel, pausing to kiss him, soft and kind.

Castiel felt his eyes water.

“My pretty angel,” Dean praises him and Castiel feels the wet tip touch his hole, nudging against him. Dean presses closer, lifting Castiel’s thighs up on his own. A calloused hand going around Castiel and resting on his lower back to hold him in place so Dean can line up better.

He feels the first push, his body tensing before he can stop it. He slumps on the bed, making himself relax.

“Easy,” Dean mutters, kissing Castiel again, his tongue snaking into his mouth to lick at him. Dean’s lower teeth pull as his lip, he kisses good, so good, teasing and claiming.

A hand closes on his erection and Castiel jerks as Dean strokes him, fingers tight, just enough to hurt a bit, just how Castiel loves it. Dean’s hand moves quick and hard, giving him no time to adjust. Castiel squirms on the bed, whimpering as Dean’s cock presses in more, the head pushing in. The hand on his own cock and mouth on his distracts him, overwhelms him.

He sobs out and realizes Dean is in him, steadily sinking more and more.

He breaks the kiss, it’s too much, he wants to concentrate on the feeling of being taken, his first time. His arms go out around Dean’s shoulders, holding on as the demon settles into him, sinking until he can’t anymore, buried inside Castiel.

There’s a burn to it but it feels good, Castiel likes a bit of pain.

Dean licks at his neck, teeth nipping, as he carefully pulls back and then sinks in again.

“Ok?”

Castiel nods his head and trembles. Dean moves lazily, shallow motions that feel new and Castiel tries to get used too. The ache fades away slowly as they rock together.

“More,” he asks, face burning as Dean grins against his neck. He slams in once, sudden and hard and Castiel moans. Dean teases him, going easy and then throwing in an unexpectedly jarring thrust.

Castiel huffs at him, not really annoyed. He lifts his thighs and curls them around Dean’s body, wrapped all around him, legs and arms.

“Fuck me, Dean,” He grumbles, embarrassed to say it. “I always dreamed you’d fuck me like a monster.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean growls and Castiel shivers. Dean pumps into him a few hard times, shoving Castiel into the bed. “Like that?”

Castiel nods and Dean laughs, fucking into him now, picking up his pace and really yanking Castiel back, skin slapping as they moved.

It felt amazing when Dean shifted, moved Castiel’s hips a bit so he was hitting his prostate on every lunge and Castiel was making embarrassing sounds. They were too loud in the quiet room but he couldn’t stop them as Dean kept slamming in and the pleasure jolted through him.

“Dean,” he sobbed and a warm rough hand closed around his cock, a single stroke with a bruising thrust and Castiel was coming.

Dean rode him through it, grunting as he shoved into Castiel over and over. He held on to the demon shivering as he focused on the feeling of being fucked. The way his body opened up over and over for Dean.

“Angel,” Dean hissed, lifting Castiel’s lower body of the bed by his thighs, hands digging in too hard as he lunged with a cruel edge.

“Gonna come in you baby,” he snarled and Castiel whined, shivering as Dean did just that. Hips jerking as he pushed as deep as he could and held Castiel there for a moment, black eyes staring down at him as Dean came.

The hands on his thighs relaxed and eased off, lowering Castiel to the bed.

“Fuck Cas, you’re a damn good lay.”

Castiel felt his face flush, he felt stupidly young and in love. He couldn’t stop smiling as Dean leaned down and kissed him again, another sweet thing that melted his heart.

Castiel got dressed and they cleaned the blood off in the bathroom attached to the bedroom. Dean took him back to his dorm, walking with a possessive hand on Castiel’s back. They made out at his door like teenagers, Dean grinning and teasing while Castiel blushed and loved it.

Dean gave Castiel his phone number, putting it in his phone and taking Castiel’s at the same time.

He left and Castiel pressed himself to his bed, fighting a smile as Dean texted him that he couldn’t wait to have him again.

 

The party was in the news the next night, police were all over the campus but Castiel paid no mind. No one came looking for him or questioned his whereabouts. Meg talked to him in class but not outside so it didn’t seem odd and no one recalled him being at the party.

The official story was the two large men had assaulted and murdered the four victims, the woman was stabbed in the back and the other three beaten to death.

“I’m glad,” a girl next to his desk muttered and her friend hushed her. “I don’t care, you know what they did to Emily and to Rebecca. Everyone knows what those pigs did. It wasn’t like they would ever get charged with all their daddy’s money.”

Castiel hid a smile and took his notes carefully.

Dean started coming around. He was charming and easygoing but there was an air about him, something unsettling that people seemed to pick up and then ignored to be polite. Castiel never minded.

His roommate gave them room, Dean would offer him forty bucks to go see a movie or grab dinner in a restaurant. As a student on a budget, Matt was happy to take the money and go away for a few hours.

“Jesus, he really works you over,” he commented once when he got back before Castiel could shower. The bed was sweat soaked and Castiel was no better, hair dripping still. His neck was covered in marks and he hadn’t put his shirt on so Matt could see the love bites and bruises on his hips.

“He fucks like a porn star,” Castiel replied, just to see his roommate react to him saying something so crude.

He told Dean about it after and the demon laughed. Castiel lived for his laughter.

They would go out into the city sometimes. Into poor areas where the crime was high, where gangs roamed and the police were paid off. Dean let Castiel pick them, disgusting human beings who reeked of terrible things; pimps who beat and raped women or revolting parents who molested their own children. Castiel found the worst and Dean lured them. They killed them together.

As medical school advanced Castiel learned about bodies, gore had never bothered him and so when Dean tortured people he never minded. He’d sit on the side, watching curiously. Sometimes they’d have a medical lesson. If Castiel was reading about hearts, Dean would cut one out so he could get a good look at it.

His marks in school remained among the top.

The city soon had a serial killer. The papers labeled them a demon doing an angel’s work, punishing the guilty. Dean laughed and laughed when he read that and Castiel had to chuckle as well. It seemed so outrageously fitting.

Dean liked to call Castiel his angel. It was silly but Castiel couldn’t help but like it. Dean called him baby and sweetheart, all sorts of names like that but angel was his favorite.

So the papers were rather funny.

 

He told him mom he met someone and she was overjoyed, asking about Dean and what he was like. The fact that he was older worried her but Castiel was quick to reassure her.

“He makes me so happy,” he told her and she smiled.

“I’m glad.”

It was Christmas and he was home for a bit. His mom was dating Steven and content. She was smiling brightly and Castiel understands the feeling, Dean makes him grin all the time too. Sometimes just by thinking of him.

 

In the summer Dean visits and he charms Castiel’s mom, makes her laugh and blush as he talks about their family being blessed with good looks. He talks about cars with Steven for hours, works on one with him even. By the end of the week both his mom and Steven adore Dean.

Which is perfect.

“You like getting fucked baby?” Dean laughs. He has Castiel up against the house outside. It’s night but people are still awake. His mom has friends over and everyone is a bit tipsy, laughing inside. Castiel loves his mom’s laugh.

“I love it, daddy,” Castiel replies shamelessly, body shoving back onto Dean’s lap as he was fucked painfully hard. His cock was trapped in a cock cage with a ring around the base, he hasn’t come since he got back and Dean's been fucking him every night too. It the best sort of torture.

“Wanna come, wanna come so bad,” Castiel sobbed and Dean licked his neck chuckling in his ear as he pounded away, taking what he wanted. Fucking Castiel oh so good, hitting all the right places and then refusing him the release.

Dean grunted when he came, shoving in deep as he unloaded. Once he was done he pulled out and the plug went back in. Castiel had so much come in him. They didn’t need lubrication at all, he was so open and wet.

Dean pulled at one of the studs in Castiel’s nipple. Hard enough to sting and Castiel whimpered, feeling his cock jerk in delight at the sensation. Both his nipples were pierced and he had one right under the head of his cock. Dean wanted him to get one right through eventually and Castiel knew he would. Dean was a master at pain during sex, always knowing just the right amount to make Castiel come so hard he was a mess after, slurring his words and unable to stand.

Castiel also had a pair of wings on his back, great black things that took up his entire shoulders and reached down to his backside. Angel wings for the angel Dean had said.

They’d killed the tattoo artist after, an abusive monster that fought dogs until they were lumps of meat, missing legs and eyes, faces torn off. He left them in the pens with the other starving dogs, making them eat each other.

Dean licked Castiel’s bloody tattoo hungrily as he fucked Castiel over the cages, watching the monster of a man being eaten by the animals. They'd let the dogs go after, giving them a chance.

Castiel was starting to get creative in his kills, trying to find a punishment to fit the crime.

Dean told him he was a real artist.

Castiel disagreed. Dean had given him all his piercings and he’d also carved his name in Castiel’s thigh. A perfect, gorgeous ‘Dean’ scarred right on him so everyone would know.

When they were in the bigger cities and everyone was a stranger Castiel wore shorts high enough so that the name could be seen. He loved the looks of shock and upset, faces twisting with pity and fear as Dean dropped a hand on Castiel’s neck and pulled him in close, claiming.

It wasn't like his mom had been, though. Castiel was happy where he was, he loved Dean and the demon never hurt him unless Castiel asked. Only during sex really, when it made him come so hard. Dean was so sweet after, soothing his hurts and bandaging him if needed, he never went too far, he never truly hurt Castiel.

 

Castiel was back for his second year, two weeks in when Sam Winchester arrived.

He gave a fake name and flashed an FBI badge as he took Castiel from his class and walked down the quiet halls.

He asked Castiel if he knew Dean and Castiel practiced his blank look, trying to seem wide-eyed and scared as he lied.

“I know this sounds a bit crazy but this man, Dean, is very dangerous. He might try and seem nice but he’s not. He’s actually a murder and you need to tell me if you’ve ever seen him.”

Castiel stared at the picture again, Dean’s smirking face looked back at him.

“No, I’ve never seen him. Why would he want me?”

The man’s face twisted and he struggled to explain.

“Have you ever heard voices before?”

Castiel blinked and stared at the tall broad man.

“Voices? As in schizophrenia?”

“Yeah. Sorry, it sounds crazy and all, but I need to know.”

Castiel shook his head in negative. Castiel hadn’t heard the voices since he was a little boy, not since before he met Dean. It was like the demon had driven them all out of him and they had never returned.

“What do voices have to do with anything?”

“Nothing. Not really. I’m going to leave you my number alright?” He gave Castiel a card, it was hand written with the name Sam and a number under it.

“I thought your name was Joe Elliot?”

“It’s a nickname of sorts, it’s a personal cell and you can call at any time. Seriously, Dean is bad news and if you ever see him or even think you saw him call me.” Sam looked so earnest and genuine, Castiel almost felt bad.

“Alright, I promise I will.”

“Good,” the man nodded and stepped away before hesitating. He slipped a small pouch from his pocket and handed it to Castiel. “Its…a good luck charm, help you will school and all that,” he offered. Castiel nodded his head slowly, letting Sam see that his lie was really, really, weak.

“…Got it.”

Castiel waited until he was out of sight, truly gone, before going back to class. He dumped the hex bag in the garbage on his way in. Dean was teaching him all about such things already. He had been hinting lately, that Castiel was somehow special, that he had his own power. While Castiel hadn’t figured it out yet he knew he would eventually. Dean liked to teach like that, never telling him outright, making Castiel figure it out. He was patient and never rushed Castiel so he didn’t worry too much about it. In time it would be clear.

Dean had asked him to keep an eye out for Sam though, he’d mentioned it months ago during a long drawn out torture of a man. He was keeping children in his basement, little girls tucked in beds beside the rotting corpses of the ones before them.

“Sammy is trouble with a capital T sweetheart,” Dean explained while the man whimpered. Castiel sat cross-legged on the chair with his textbook out, peering at the picture of Sam Winchester that Dean has handed him. “He’s a good guy, means well and all that but he wants me out of the picture, wants to change me, make me something I’m not.”

Castiel watched Dean ease the man’s lower intestine out of his stomach. It was amazing how many organs could come out before death would creep in if done right.

“Why won’t he leave you alone?”

“Figures he’s saving me and all that. Mean’s well but can be a pain sometimes. He’ll find you and come looking eventually, no way he won’t. If he wants you to go with him agree and then take off first chance, call me up.”

Castiel frowned at the photo, committing the face to memory. “What will he do to me?”

“Hide you away, tuck you in a nice comfy prison and do everything to keep you from me. He knows I want you and he wants to come between us.”

The sky outside turned bleak and thunder rumbled as lightning struck, lighting the empty warehouse they were working in. The picture in Castiel’s hand crumpled as he shook with rage.

Dean smirked at him and winked. “Come help angel.”

Castiel put his book aside and slid to the floor, kneeling and letting Dean’s warm bloody hands guide him. They reached into the neat slice through the man’s abdomen and felt around for his spleen. He is a monster and he deserves the pain for what he did to those girls. 

“Don’t worry, he’s not taking you anywhere, its more likely he’ll try to be your friend.”

“I won’t let him, I’ll kill him first,” Castiel replied, voice absolute as the thunder rolled. Dean grinned and leaned over to kiss him, rough and bloody and then a second softer thing that eased Castiel’s anger.

“He’s hard as hell to kill but if we have to we’ll make sure he leaves us alone.”

Reassured, Castiel smiled and they turned back to their work.

“We should leave him here, alive. Let him die slowly and then rot away as the rats eat him.”

“Sounds perfect,” Dean praised. Castiel felt warmth fill his chest and he grinned back at Dean, hopelessly in love and eager for their life together, hunting monsters. 

 

Dean fucked Castiel after, pounded his ass while they were still bloody. He loved riding Castiel, he was by far the finest screw Dean had had in ages. So damn eager to please but with his own kinks that kept it interesting. Such a sweet piece of ass.

Sam would show up eventually, trying to help, trying to save Dean and protect Castiel.

Ever since the mark of Cain had overtaken Dean and turned him into a demon again Sam was determined to change him back. He wanted to drag Dean back into morals and obedience, living his life saving people too weak to save themselves.

Fuck that.

Castiel was half dead at the time, just on the edge of kicking the bucket. It hadn’t been hard to give him that push, to juice the angel up with grace and make him fall. Castiel had shivered but Dean had kissed him and coaxed, seduced the worn down angel and in the end he’d fallen willingly. He chose to chance whatever would happen rather than deal with Dean as a demon he couldn’t save.

It had taken Dean a decade to track him down, to find his angel reborn.

The spell had worked in some ways, a few special nudges to set things up. His mom had a dream about naming him Castiel and she’d followed it. The name was rare enough for Dean to track, no one else knew about it.

After that he just had to help a bit, kill the right people and keep the kid on the right track. Castiel was woefully human as a kid and while Dean was dancing with Sam he couldn’t take the angel with him. Castiel would slow him down.

So he waited him out. Sam grew old and gray while Dean stayed young and hot. He ran around the world killing who he pleased and delighting in the chaos he could make. Crowley left him to it and any angels or demons that came around he gutted with pleasure.

Finally, when Castiel was old enough he went looking, finding him just ripe for the picking.

Some wannabe demon pretending to be Meg reborn or some shit showing up only made it easier. She put a healthy suspicion in Castiel, building on what was already there. Now he trusted no one, only Dean and his mom were allowed his faith.

As he grew up the spell Castiel fell with started working. Rather than having to find Castiel’s grace, it slowly just filters back into him. Dean would butcher an angel here and there and feed Castiel a bit extra grace while he slept, building on his power bit by bit.

Eventually, he’d be an unholy terror, a monstrously powerful thing that would send everyone running. God, Dean was looking forward to it. He could just taste the horror.

And Castiel, his sweet angel would look at him so adoringly, his perfect partner in crime. They’d rip the world apart together one day.

Dean could barely wait for it.

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic Castiel grows up in an abusive household with his mom constantly being beaten, raped and forced into prostitution and drug selling.
> 
> Castiel is molested by a pastor in his late teens, the pastor also molests a nine year old boy. 
> 
> Later on Castiel and Dean begin to hunt people they deem disgusting which includes rapists, pedophiles, animal abusers, murderers and the like. They graphical torture and kill them. 
> 
> **********
> 
> This went so dark, I was just feeling down about humanity and I kinda purged it all writing this. I was also thinking of how terrible the world could be and how it would shape Castiel.
> 
> I broke it into two chapters because I used a collection ao3 thingy for this since it was for Dean/Cas Secret Santa no one outside that group could see it. So now I'm pretty sure you all can? I dunno. It confused me. Deeply.


End file.
